It’s Christmas. Christmas!
It’s still early. The kids are still asleep in their beds waiting for their alarms to trigger that instant Christmas morning jump-out-of-bed reflex. The soft, warm lights of the Christmas tree are glowing across the living room. I have the TV tuned to the virtual fireplace which, I suppose, is keeping me virtually warm.
Under the tree, the presents are snugly tucked in. The bright colors and shiny bows are just waiting to be ripped into.
But as I sit here waiting for everyone to wake, I’m looking most forward to what awaits my artist wife under the tree.
Sure, I’ve struck out a lot in the past. Like, really, a lot.
Tip #1: Do not buy pajamas two sizes too large. Know your wife’s size or don’t buy clothes at all.
Tip #2: If she likes Harry Potter, know which “house” is hers. Apparently, Slytherin is not Hufflepuff. And, that’s important for some reason. (Bless her heart for putting up with me.)
This year, however, I know I’ve nailed it. I think.
In a scant couple of hours, my artist wife is going to have a 15-pound box wrapped in red and green polka dots sitting uncomfortably on her lap.
After the kids open some of their gifts, my wife will rip into hers; red-and-green polka dot paper flying everywhere, the shiny red bow sailing across the living room, until she sees what I got her: the perfect gift!
“This present really sucks,” she’s going to tell me.
“I know, right?” I’ll say.
Under that polka-dot wrapping paper is an autonomous robot vacuum.
So, yes, it will suck. I’m counting on it, and hopefully in the only way I intend.
To be clear, household cleaning equipment is always a risky gift decision. I’m not completely oblivious… only sometimes.
However, I’m counting on my artist wife’s love of technology to carry the day more than her allergies to housework. (Full disclosure: I’m allergic to housework too.)
And if her love of technology doesn’t carry the day, I have Harry Potter glasses on standby that I can tape to the robot vacuum to magically transform it into a novelty gift from the house of Gryffindor, or Hufflepuff, or whatever.
Merry Christmas! May you not strike out in your gift giving like I’m about to.